


Downpour

by Zee (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-26
Updated: 2004-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rainy night in Gotham, and one pissed-off clone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downpour

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Mackenzie for the beta. Takes place after Tim returns to being Robin, but before IC and Tim's various horrible traumas.

Gotham feels oddly comforting in the rain. The city is always vaguely dark and dreary, but at least the rain completes the effect, making it seem like there’s a *reason* for the creepy ambience.

Tim pulls his cape tighter around him. The rain might be aesthetically pleasing, but he’d still rather not be on patrol in the middle of it. 

Especially tonight. He knows what’s coming; he knows it’s only a matter of minutes before—

Tim hears the swoosh of air and twists to the side right before Kon slams into the spot where he’d just been. Kon’s getting faster, and the punch catches Tim on the shoulder instead of missing him completely, and Tim stumbles.

He winces internally. That hurt even through the body armor. It’s possible he had miscalculated just how angry Kon was going to be right now.

Kon recovers quickly and aims a hard blow at Tim’s jaw, which Tim ducks, swiftly moving backwards and out of range. On the plus side, Kon is angry and hurt enough that his blows are erratic, imbalanced; on the other hand, he’s mad enough that if he manages to actually *land* a blow it could injure Tim substantially.

“Kon,” Tim says, evading another punch. “*Calm down.*”

“Calm down?! Tim, what the *fuck*?” Kon stops punching long enough to glare at him, a gleam in his eyes that makes Tim wonder if he should worry about the heat vision.

“This is just a misunderstanding,” Tim says, trying to keep agitation out of his voice.

“Misunderstanding? *Misunderstanding?* Bullshit! You told Batman, and he told Superman! What is there to misunderstand?”

“I didn’t-“

“*Fuck* you!” Kon lunges at Tim again, and this time catches him, grabbing his tunic and shoving him against the building. “What the hell is this, huh? You didn’t trust me as a teammate? You thought I’d go fucking *evil* or something?” 

“*No.* Kon, listen-“

“Or maybe Batman just guilted you into it. I know he hates me, and I know *you’re* his little lapdog; Jesus, he probably didn’t even have to look at you sideways for you to spill it all.”

Tim feels his own temper flare, and he brings his arm up, twisting and pushing out of Kon’s hold on him. “You *know* that’s not true.”

“Do I?” When Kon looks at him, there’s more hurt and frustration in his eyes than anger. “Fuck, Tim, you know *everything* about me; you know the only big god damn secret I *have*--had.” 

He steps forward suddenly, so that he’s only a few inches away from Tim’s face. “But I know *jack shit* about you. And I’ve gotta say, Tim, all evidence points to *you* telling Batman about the... the Luthor thing.”

Tim swallows and forces himself to look Kon in the eyes, even though Kon won’t be able to tell with the mask. “Batman *did* find out because of me, yes. But I *promise* you that I didn’t tell him, Kon.” Don’t look down. Don’t. “I couldn’t *do* that to you.”

Kon looks away, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. “I don’t believe you.”

“Kon, *listen* to me-“

“You lie to *Batman!*” Kon bursts out. “Jesus, Tim, you *told* us you lie to him—how the *hell* do I know you’re not lying to me now?”

“Why *would* I? You’re going to be mad at me regardless of what I say, aren’t you?”

Kon glares, and then turns and walks away, running a hand through his hair. Tim can *see* the anger bleeding out: his shoulders slump, his head bows, and a little sigh escapes from his lips that is almost too soft for Tim to hear. 

“How did he find out?”

“I... after I temporarily quit, I became... lax on the securities on my computer. When I put the costume back on, things were so hectic that I didn’t have a chance to improve them.”

“He hacked your computer?”

“Not *exactly.* To tell you the truth, Kon, I’m not entirely sure how he found out.” He moves closer, slowly reaching out to touch Kon’s shoulder. He winces internally when Kon tenses. “But you have to believe that I didn’t tell him. Please.”

Kon doesn’t say anything for several moments. Then he turns around, and his eyes are blue and wide and pleading.

“Tim... I—I don’t know how to *handle* this.”

Tim bows his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Kon. You knew it would come out eventually.”

And that was the *wrong* thing to say, because Kon *really*doesn’t want to hear cool logic right now. He sucks in a breath and glares at Tim. “It didn’t have to come out *now,* you asshole!”

“*Kon*-“

“I’m living with his *family,* Tim! Clark has just found out that Lex-fucking-Luthor’s *clone* is living with his family in Smallville! You don’t think that’s a *big deal?*”

“You’re *not* just Luthor’s clone. You’re *Superboy.* You’re Clark’s clone, too.”

Kon laughs, a bitter, strangled sound. “Yeah. And that just makes it even *worse.*”

Tim takes a step and grabs Kon’s arm, squeezing it hard enough for Kon to feel it. “*No.* Kon, you’re a hero, you’re a Titan, you’ve *proved* yourself. Your genes don’t change a godamn thing.”

Kon jerks out of Tim’s hold and grabs his shoulders, fingers tight on kevlar. Tim swallows. “I’m a *clone,* Tim. My genes change *everything.*”

Tim takes a shaky breath. “You’re not a clone,” he says. “You’re a boy. Just like me.”

Kon looks down, whispering “Oh, god.” Then he looks back up, and licks his lips. “Just like you?”

Tim nods, and Kon’s lips are wet with rain and insistent and angry, pulling and sucking at his mouth like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered. It’s not even a *choice* to kiss back; nor is it a choice to pull him close, to slide his gloved hand through Kon’s wet hair and over his neck, over his shoulders, pulling his t-shirt up to skate over his chest.

It’s not a choice to moan when his tongue caresses the roof of Tim’s mouth, and it’s not a choice to gasp when Kon breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against his and clenching his fist in his cape.

“I don’t know what to do.” Kon’s voice is somewhere between a moan and a whisper. “Christ, Tim, I don’t know what to *do,* please, tell me...”

And Tim doesn’t have an answer, but he does know how to curl his fingers in Kon’s t-shirt and yank him forward, how to lick at the spot where Kon’s collarbones meet and slide upwards until he’s kissing his jaw.

Kon whimpers and buries his head in Tim’s shoulder, pawing at the cape and tunic like clothing is a foreign concept. Tim unhooks the cape and unbuckles his tunic without turning away from his neck.

Kon finds Tim’s nipple and pinches it through the green t-shirt. Tim hisses, momentarily distracted from suckling his jaw, and Kon takes advantage of the opportunity to lift him and *shove* him up against the wall. Tim can feel every grimy bump and ridge of the brick wall against his back.

Kon slips his hand beneath the soaked cotton of Tim’s t-shirt, sliding his hand across Tim’s skin and trailing the dark line of hair that leads down to his groin. When he reaches that sensitive spot right beneath the utility belt, Tim can’t help but buck his hips, biting his lip to keep back a moan.

Kon growls and drops to his knees. The belt comes apart easily, and then rough hands are dragging the shorts, the tights and the jock down to Tim’s knees. Tim takes a sharp breath when cold raindrops hit his dick, and cries out when Kon’s mouth (hot so hot not cold at all) wraps around him. 

Kon digs his fingers *hard* into Tim’s skin, and swipes his tongue across the head of Tim’s cock. It takes all the control he has not to buck his hip again, not to fuck that pretty, wet *needy* mouth, but he doesn’t, he doesn’t because he doesn’t know much but he knows that it isn’t supposed to *be* this way. Not here, not like this on a dirty rooftop in the rain when Kon is still hurting and sucking Tim’s cock like it’s *painful*.

Kon seems frustrated with Tim’s self-control, and he stops licking the head and goes down, sucking the entire length into his throat. Tim gasps and his hips jerk, and before he can stop he’s fucking Kon’s mouth in wild, erratic thrusts.

He squeezes his eyes shut and *forces* himself to focus. “Kon,” he manages to get out. “Please, you don’t—you don’t have to-“

But he has to stop there, because Kon doesn’t seem to have heard him: he’s swallowing around his cock and sucking him even *further* in, and when he groans it sends a jolt straight through Tim’s spine. He’s helpless to do anything but stare at Kon’s nose rubbing against his mound, Kon’s hands squeezing his hipbones, and the rainwater trickling down the back of Kon’s neck.

He doesn’t seem interested so much in giving Tim a blow job as he is in getting as much of Tim’s cock down his throat as possible. 

Tim gives up, and slams his head back against the wall and bucks into Kon’s mouth, grinding against his lips and chin, feeling the tip of his cock bump up against the back of Kon’s throat again and again. Spots explode behind his eyes and he comes hearing nothing but the patter of rain and Kon’s muffled groans.

He’s dimly aware of Kon letting his cock slide from his lips, of Kon slumping against him and resting his head against Tim’s thigh, his hands moving up to squeeze Tim’s ass as if it’s the only thing left to hold on to.

Tim gently nudges Kon away from him, crouches down beside him, and then they’re both falling, stumbling and slumping against the wall. His tights and shorts are still clinging around his knees, and the raindrops spatterring against his bare legs sting a little bit.

Kon’s breaths are ragged and deep, and his mouth looks swollen. His cheeks are wet with either rain or tears—it’s impossible to tell. 

Tim hates feeling helpless; it’s one of the reasons he became Robin in the first place. So he slips off a glove and slides his hand through Kon’s hair, cupping the back of his head and tugging him forward until their mouths touch. He looks so vulnerable that Tim is afraid to do anything more than brush his lips over Kon’s, but then Kon turns it into a real kiss, slipping his tongue into his mouth and sucking on his bottom lip.

Tim can’t help but moan, and when the kiss ends he pulls Kon clumsily into a hug, wrapping his arms around those broad shoulders and breathing against his neck. Kon gives a little sob and clings to him, burying his face in Tim’s t-shirt.

“It’s going to be okay,” Tim says, and doesn’t know if he’s lying or not.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me,” Kon says, his voice muffled by Tim’s shoulder. “All he can *see* is Luthor, and Batman...” Tim feels Kon tense. “Batman looks at me like I’m just another villain, and it’s only a matter of time before he has to take me down.”

Tim grimaces. “He doesn’t think that.”

Kon laughs, the most unhumorous sound Tim’s ever heard. “Don’t lie, Tim. It’s bad for your complexion.”

Tim squeezes Kon and presses a kiss to the exposed skin at his neck. “He’ll get past it. You’ve been far too loyal to Superman, to the Titans, to *everyone* for him to doubt you.”

Kon laughs again, and the sound makes Tim want to vomit. He pushes away to look Tim in the eye. “Except for that time when I defied the police and Superman and everyone to run off with a Female Fury, and that time when I was replaced by an evil clone, and that time when I kidnapped a baby from the government.” He’s not laughing anymore, and there’s a strange, steely look in his eyes. “Did you ever think of that, Tim? Did you ever think that maybe Batman’s right about me?”

Tim stares placidly back at him. “No,” he says quietly.

Kon looks away, and his face twists into something that manages to be both bitter and vulnerable. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.” When Kon doesn’t answer, Tim grabs his chin and forces him to look back at him. “I’m *not.*”

Kon kisses him again, and Tim relents, giving in to the slide of lips across his and the feel of Kon’s tongue against his teeth.


End file.
